


We'll Gourd You Forever and Ever

by driftingMarlowe



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Gen, family outing, first-ever fic posted here aaaaaa, no editing we fall like crowley, snake!babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 04:17:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21385963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/driftingMarlowe/pseuds/driftingMarlowe
Summary: On a visit to the bookshop, Warlock mentions offhandedly how people would be making jack o'lanterns in America around this time of year. The children seize the idea and run off with it, and Crowley is coaxed (read: dragged) into bringing them out to choose their own pumpkin to carve.Title stems from a play on words, gourd=guard.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 186
Collections: Wiggleverse





	We'll Gourd You Forever and Ever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SocialBookWorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocialBookWorm/gifts).

_ Father! Azirafather! _ the noodles call out, the day after the Them (including Warlock, now) have left, leaving the bookshop and the flat above thankfully quieter. It can never get quiet enough to the point that Aziraphale’s used to, with five little snakes roaming about, but their voices aren’t so loud like the Them’s are. Crowley doesn’t mind the loss of such complete silence so much; he prefers the noise, actually, to his former flat--where sound was even rarer than the bookshop. There, one could at least hear the rustling of pages.

He uncurls himself from Aziraphale’s side, where he’d been comfortably dozing as the angel read, nestled in the soft warmth, and pads upstairs. The angel glances over, questioning; Crowley smiles, and Aziraphale turns back to his books. Crowley knows how loathe he is to abandon a book he’s in the middle of reading, but he also knows he’ll drop the book in a heartbeat if the noodles were in serious trouble. This, however, is something Crowley is certain he can handle on his own. 

Aziraphale had been loath to expand the bookshop (although Crowley was _ sure _ the building, when Aziraphale had first acquired it, hadn’t been nearly big enough to host the hoard of books it now held), but the floor above was a different matter, and so a spacious room had been added. It contained… well, a whole forest in a single room, miniaturized enough to fit, and adapted especially for the noodles. Or, to look at it from a different perspective, a terrarium expanded enough to fill an entire room. Either way, it’s a perfect home for the five snake children. Their original terrarium is even set on a table in one corner, in case any of them need the comfort of a smaller comforting space. 

Crowley wanders in past the open doorway, his tongue flicking out instinctively to take in the rich earthy scents. He takes a deep breath, and settles down in a cozy nook shaped by tree roots, legs sprawled out in front of him. “Spawn? You wanted me?” Four tiny flickers of black, and one of white, race over, piling themselves eagerly into his lap. 

_ Father! Hihihihihi! _they chorus, just slightly offbeat with each other, making the greetings echo in his head. 

“Hullo, spawn,” he says affectionately, running long fingers over all of them--and, when they stick their snouts high in the air, he grins, and gently boops each one. “Did you sleep well?” 

Alessia boops him one last time, then slithers her way up his hand to wrap around his wrist. _ Seth kept creeping into _ my _ space, _ she huffs indignantly, twisting to glare at him. _ My space should be _mine.

He has to fight to hide his amusement; it’s more likely to set Alessia off than anything else. She’s always had a chaotic temperament, always been hot-headed. “Hey, now, Seth, remember what we agreed about personal space?”

Seth sticks his tongue out at Alessia--a normal action, for snakes, but Crowley’s already taught them it’s a rude gesture, only they can get away with it, being snakes. _ Prat. Why’d you have to go tell on me for? _ Crowley nudges him a little with one finger. _ Yes, I remember, I just wanted to cuddle! And she was closest! _

Wynn slithers on top of him, looping their body over his. _ There. Cuddling, _they announce, sounding very smug. Seth just groans. 

Crowley decides to cut this off before it can go any further. “Seth, next time, just ask first if it’s okay, alright? What did you all want, anyways?”

They break out into giggles, their excited words rushing on and on and all tangling together until Crowley can’t even pick out a specific voice, much less a specific _ word _. “Hush, shhhh. I can’t hear anything if you’re all speaking.”

Anthony Junior speaks up first. _ Warlock told us about a thing they do in-in America, for Halloween, and we thought it sounded cool. We’d like to do it too! _

_ Skip the boring stuff! _ Azariah complains, wiggling onto Crowley’s other hand. _ Father, we want to make jack o’lanterns! Like Warlock! _

“Make… jack o’lanterns...?” he repeats, understanding once the American term finds itself in his mental dictionary. He’s lived on Earth for 6,000 years, and he knows a great deal of languages, both current and dead, but the slang of all the different cultures he’s slower on, having primarily lived in London for so long. “That requires a knife, though, to carve with. Knives aren’t made for little sneklets like yourselves.”

_ We could nibble the holes out ourselves! _Azariah exclaims, almost losing her grip on Crowley’s hand. This time, Crowley can’t help it; the laugh bursts out of him. 

“Azariah, dear, I don’t think pumpkin shell tastes very good. It’s very hard too, and I think it’d make your mouths sore.” When her head droops, he hastens to add, “But I’m sure there’s a way we can do it, don’t worry.”

_ You could use the knife yourself, and we could just tell you how to do it, _Wynn suggests, still draped over their brother. 

Well, Crowley couldn’t find any harm in that.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The very next day, Aziraphale leaves on a bookhunt, and the bookshop is left to Crowley and the five noodles. Crowley can’t keep but think that following these rumors of a long-lost book recently rediscovered is just a wild goose chase, but at least it leaves the bookshop free for pumpkin carving. He’s not enough of an idiot to do the carving in the actual shop--who knows what Aziraphale’d do if pumpkin guts _ dared _ touch his books--but the angel’s just as likely to fuss over the dirt-coated pumpkins. 

Besides, this way he can surprise Aziraphale with the final product. 

He scoops the noodles up shortly after Aziraphale leaves, tucking them into various pockets and hidey-holes. They haven’t been out of the shop often, and never with just one parent, but Crowley figures they ought to be able to pick out their own pumpkin.

The Bentley’s waiting outside, and Crowley lets the snakes tumble out of his clothing to explore once inside, now that no humans will see them and notice how odd it is for a man to be out walking his snakes. They all slither up onto the dashboard, peering curiously through the windshield. 

Crowley has no need to turn the car on; he simply taps one foot against the pedal and the Bentley zooms out into traffic. They drive around the city for a while, more for the children to get some scenery in than any real need of Crowley’s, then leave for the outskirts. England isn’t a place particularly known for pumpkin-growing, but there’s always some stands scattered about during early fall. 

It takes little time at all for him to find one (although, perhaps, due to an unconscious miracle--the woman running the stand, upon returning home for the night, will wonder how she got mixed up enough to believe her stand was several blocks away from its actual location, then shake her head, and chalk it up to tiredness). The children return eagerly to their accustomed crevices in his coat, although he has to remind them firmly to keep their heads and tails tucked in. “Yes, even if you want to see everything. You’ll be able to, later.”

“Hello, sir,” the woman says warmly, seated behind a card table that’s serving as her desk. “We have plenty of fall vegetables, decorative gourds, and the like. Please feel free to look around.” 

Crowley nods, his hands brushing over the table laden with gourds. He feels a slight wriggling along his arms; the noodles coming over to peek out of his sleeves. _ I like that one, Father! _ Wynn calls out, their voice breaking off into a high-pitched squeal at the end. _ The orange-y one with the skinny neck. _It takes a second for Crowley to locate it, but when he does he picks it up, consideringly. 

“What kind--”

The woman cuts him off almost immediately. “Ah, it’s just an ornamental, really. Most of these are. I’m afraid I don’t know the specific name for each.” 

“Doesn’t matter, really,” Crowley says, turning it over in his hands, testing its sturdiness. “I’ll take it--and four others, too. That should make a good arrangement, eh?”

“Of course, sir! Would you like help picking the rest out, or--”

This time, it’s Crowley that cuts her off, with a brilliant smile. “No, no, that’s quite alright. Why don’t you rest for a bit, I’m sure you deserve it. Go on, now.” She sinks back into her chair, and her eyes flutter closed as Crowley coaxes a bit of magic up from Hell. “There, spawn. It’s safe now, come out.”

_ Yay! _ It barely takes a second for all five to scurry onto the table; Wynn curls around their gourd, which is tilted at such an angle as to allow them to dangle off of the curved neck. Alessia lets out a yelp of joy and sprints for a mini pumpkin, for some reason snow-white instead of the usual orange. _ Look, Father! We match! _

“Yes, you do, sweetheart,” Crowley replies, watching as she awkwardly curls herself around the pumpkin and tries scooting both herself and it over to him. He lets her struggle for a few seconds before sliding the pumpkin onto his palm, still with the white noodle wrapped firmly around it. “Has everyone else chosen a gourd?” 

Azariah has found one quite similar to Wynn’s, except hers is smoother, and green with white speckles. As could be expected, Seth and AJ are arguing over a gourd, green and yellow with flaps sticking out from the sides. Crowley groans, blesses under his breath, and goes looking for a similar one to break up the argument. 

“Here, spawn. It’s practically the same--so why don’t you two figure out who gets which one?” AJ slithers over to inspect the new gourd, his tongue flickering out to scent it. “We can do that--later,” Crowley hastily adds, after catching sight of the way Seth’s glancing between his brother and the two gourds. He’d only _ just _stopped the first argument; does there really need to be another one so soon? “We’ll go pick out the pumpkin now, c’mon spawn.”

They all snuggle back up into his coat, and he trudges behind the stand to where a handful of orange blobby spheres are scattered across the ground. Crowley knows little about how to select a pumpkin for carving--he’s carved turnips before, in the old days, but there’s quite a lot of difference--but he feigns confidence. “This one seems decent,” he says, striding over and hefting one up. It’s a fairish medium size, and almost perfectly round, and Crowley’s pleased when the children approve of it. 

They leave rather quickly after that. Crowley snaps his fingers, and the woman jerks awake; he pays her, gathers the gourds into a bag, and carries the pumpkin out to the car. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

Back at the bookshop, the snakes are excitedly supervising as Crowley washes off their gourds and pumpkin, pointing out even the tiniest of dirt spots. _ It has to be _ absolutely _ clean, Father! _He’s relieved when Seth and AJ each go to separate gourds; whether they’ve decided the matter on their own, or simply forgot which was the original, he doesn’t care. As long as he doesn’t have to deal with more arguments.

It takes them a while more to decide on a design for the jack o’lantern, but eventually settle on a basic face: triangle eyes and a grinning, toothy mouth. Wynn had brought up doing the bookshop and Bentley, and they’d all liked the idea of it, but Crowley wasn’t sure he could pull it off successfully. He’d promised them that next year they’d do something fancier, however. Aziraphale could certainly handle that one, given his absence now.

Crowley’s in the midst of pulling guts out of the pumpkin when Aziraphale comes in downstairs--he can sense the subtle shift in the bookshop’s energy, the way it welcomes its owner home. “Up here!” he calls, reaching in to untangle a noodle from the slimy strings. 

_ It’s sticky, Father, _ Azariah complains, glaring at the pulpy mess. _ And it tastes _horrible. 

_ You aren’t supposed to eat it, _ Alessia says primly, tugging a oval seed towards the others she’d already collected. Warlock’d mentioned something about toasting the seeds, too, and she was definitely going to try that. Creating a seed-pile was _ much _better than getting all goopy, anyways.

_ But what about pumpkin pie? _

_ That’s _ after _ it’s cooked, silly. _

None of them notice when Aziraphale enters the room--but certainly everyone notices when the knife _ poofs _ and disappears from the table, reappearing in Aziraphale’s hand. “A _ knife, _ Crowley?” he asks, voice only slightly shaky. “They could’ve gotten _ hurt. _”

Crowley drops the muck he’s holding, miracling his hands clean in an instant. He turns to Aziraphale, gently reaching out for the knife, then when the angel doesn’t let go, dropping his hand onto his trembling arm. “The spawn are perfectly fine, and I made sure the knife was safe. I’m the only one who used it, angel.”

_ Azirafather! _ the noodles cry out, scampering over to gaze up at him, covered in orange goop. Even Alessia; her siblings had made sure she wasn’t the only one of them to not get messy. _ Azirafather, look! We’re making a jack o’lantern, and Father took us out into the city, and we got to pick our own gourds and-- _AJ says, his tiny body wriggling excitedly and splattering goop everywhere. 

Aziraphale’s gaze flicks up from where Crowley’s hand is resting on his arm to meet Crowley’s eyes. “You… you took them out into the _ city? _ Good Lor-for heave-for _ somebody’s _sake, Crowley, what if they’d been seen? You could’ve gotten into serious trouble, five snakes roaming around in your car!” He frowns, shaking off Crowley’s hand and stepping forward to place the knife gingerly on the table. 

_ Azirafather doesn’t like our jack o’lantern? _ Seth says, glancing worriedly back at the pumpkin. _ Or our adventures? I _ liked _ our adventures! _

“No, no, sweetheart,” he says, forcing a smile--after so long, Crowley can easily recognize it as fake--and gently booping Seth. “It’s just that I worry your father wasn’t quite as careful as he should have been.”

_ We _ were _ careful! _ Wynn points out. _ Hid in our hidey-holes out in public, and Father made the stand-lady sleep so we could go out and explore. Very safe! _

Aziraphale dutifully boops the others as they come over, stretching their heads up into the air. “Oh, I’m sure you were very safe,” he reassures them. “And I’m glad you had a bit of an adventure today. I’m just… I wish I’d been able to come with you. It must have been very fun.”

Crowley waves a hand at the noodles. “Go on, you’ve had your boops, there’s still plenty of goop to clean out. Azirafather isn’t upset with you.” They squeal and return to pulling goop out--or more accurately, trying to heap goop up high enough for a proper slide. Crowley’s glad he decided to have them work in their terrarium-room, where stray bits of pumpkin can just meld in with the floor substrate. 

He watches them work for a few moments before turning to Aziraphale. “Mind telling me what all that was about?” he says, in low enough of a voice that the distracted children won’t hear. “I’m just as worried about their safety as you are, angel. And you usually are gone longer on your book-hunts. So what happened?”

Aziraphale hesitates, fiddling with the lapels of his coat, brushing pumpkin bits off of him--whether real or imaginary. “It’s nothing, really.”

Crowley’s eyebrows lift, his golden eyes growing wider. “C’mon now. What happened? Did it turn out to be a wild goose chase again?” His voice slips towards wheedling, towards what he’d used for temptations once upon a time. No--not temptations, but rather how he spoke to demons, sometimes, when he and they held opposing views, and he was using all of his desperate cunning and imagination to work them around to his side. Aziraphale’s come home from a pear-shaped book-hunt before; he’s been angry and upset and pissed, but never like this. 

“It’s… well. I had a… erm… a meeting. An unexpected one.” 

“With heaven?” he hisses, his own serpent tongue lashing out. “Why now, yearssss after Armageddon? Did they finally figure out our trick? Are they coming after ussss? We’ll need to strengthen the wardssss, add in more protection… perhaps book-girl has something useful...” 

“No, Crowley,” he says, grabbing his arm to slow down his wild thinking. “Nothing as-as bad as that. I think.” He’d thought the same, too, when the angel had landed in front of him in a blaze of light. Someone he vaguely recognized, but thankfully not Gabr--none of the archangels or their assistants. “One of the… er, ‘important’ angels has gone missing, and they have reason to believe she’s on Earth.”

Crowley frowns, glancing back at the noodles. Wynn’s lifted their head to stare in his direction, although he thinks--hopes--they haven’t heard anything. Still, he steps out into the hallway, and Aziraphale follows. “Why would--a _ Higher-up _? Why would she come to ussss, of all placessss? We’re not particularly well-liked in either Upstairssss or Below.”

“Ah, well, that’s the thing.” Aziraphale fusses with his coat some more. “They think she went… renegade, and she came to us for protection.”

_ We’re done! _Azariah announces, interrupting whatever Crowley was going to say next. He saunters back over to the table, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. The pumpkin’s mostly hollowed out, and the noodles are coated in its guts. 

“Very well done,” he says, studiously ignoring the mess. He looks back at Aziraphale, and jerks his head impatiently at the pumpkin. They can discuss this bad news, or whatever it is, later. 

“Ooooh, yes, well done!” Aziraphale adds, coming to stand next to Crowley. “And I see you’ve got a nice stack of seeds there, Alessia, those’ll toast up quite nicely. We can save quite a lot of the innards for a pie or two as well; you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Azariah? What did you all decide on for the design?”

“Ah, it’s just a face, really. Nothing particularly fancy,” Crowley sputters out. Aziraphale nods, snaps his fingers, and lines begin carving themselves into the shell, glowing with holy light. The children are quick to pounce on this idea--they’d been excited to see Crowley carving it with a knife, but they’re just as excited to see ethereal magic--offering a flurry of suggestions to direct the lines’ path. The face looks rather… lopsided in the end, but Crowley assures them it just makes it look spookier, which is the whole point really, and they’re once again delighted. 

Seth slithers inside first, poking his tiny snout out through an eye. Alessia claims the other eye, this one rounded instead of triangle-shaped, leaving the other three to loop back and forth between the spiky teeth. Crowley pulls out his phone and starts snapping pictures, a wide grin spreading across his face. Aziraphale’s still rattled by the heavenly encounter earlier, but he too begins to smile. 

**Author's Note:**

> For reference:
> 
> AJ (Anthony Junior) - black with red belly, yellow eyes; male (he/him)  
Seth - black with red belly, yellow eyes; nonbinary (he/him or they/them)  
Wynn - black with red belly, yellow eyes; nonbinary (they/them)  
Azariah - black with red belly, blue eyes; genderfluid (she/her for this fic, and for most of the time)  
Alessia - white with red belly, blue eyes; female (she/her)
> 
> \------
> 
> Thanks to Kedreeva for letting us play in her sandbox, and to SocialBookWorm for encouraging me to write and post this fic! 
> 
> I was inspired to write this by this short video: https://www.facebook.com/JeffGalewoodjr/videos/418530862387620/ and came up with the idea on Halloween (very fitting, right? ^_^)
> 
> Tumblr is nightmares-and-fireflies; if anyone wishes to talk to me there they're welcome to do so. :D


End file.
